Contrast
by Everstark
Summary: Just a oneshot of what transpired the night before the eventful Hunger Games. Cato/OC


Hello Everyone! This is my first story, to begin with. It's only a oneshot, though. Just to try my writing skills. Enjoy reading and please review if you can! :)

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_**But there's no way out,**_

_**I gotta hold you somehow.**_

_**-I Wanna, All-American Rejects**_

_**And when the daylight comes I have to go, **_

_**but tonight I'm gonna hold you so close.**_

_**-Daylight, Maroon 5**_

I am running. I can't breathe.

I'm struggling to catch my breath as I run down a couple of hallways. I never felt so frustrated in my life. My stay in the tributes' building has not been completely bad, but I couldn't consider it as pleasant either. This is the last night of our stay here. Tomorrow will be the games. I don't know what I'll do when I get in the arena. Gods, will I even survive the bloodbath? I'm not sure. But no, I have to. I can't possibly let my family see me die before their own eyes. It won't be like that. But I search my brain for some way on how I can survive that horrifying day without the pain it gives my head and the persistent throb in my chest whenever I think about it.

So many thoughts ran into my head. I feel my hands shake and my legs go weak as I realized my running hasn't ceased. Has it been always so suffocating in this place? I noticed it only now.

I want to go out of this place so bad. I want to go back to my hometown district and feel something I haven't felt for a couple of days: Home. But that isn't possible. I can't go back now.

I felt urgent relief and gratefulness the moment I saw a door that says, Roof. I hurriedly open the door upon seeing it is not locked. I observe the whole of the rooftop as I take small steps toward the center. It's only like a large balcony, to say the least. To my surprise, there are flowers on the far left side. They're hydrangeas, with colours ranging from pink to dark purple. My mother once said that they meant heartlessness but understanding at the same time. It matches with the whole thing, I think darkly to myself. I wonder if anybody in this place truly understands what I'm feeling, and what I hope to feel right now. I walk towards the hydrangeas and sit beside them. I want to feel safe, to feel protected even if in reality, I'm vulnerable. I touch the petals gingerly and feel their relaxing texture beneath my fingertips.

I start to wonder, did someone purposely placed them here? Did someone know that a tribute might go here, and yearn solace and comfort? I then feel a spark of hope in my heart. I knew it, not everyone who's seemingly vile are really evil. Sometimes, the superficiality of it all is the act of understanding.

I stand up and walk to the other side of the roof and felt the wind rushing through me. I reached the edge of the roof and looked down on all the city lights Panem has to offer. They're too beautiful, but they hurt my eyes.

I hear a rustling sound from behind me and when I turn around, I see Cato looking just as perturbed as I. His eyes flashed upon seeing me. I continue to look at him as he close the door to the roof from behind. I turn back to the city lights as I hear him walk beside me.

"For the record, I don't know you would be up here.", he said, a hint of chuckle in his voice. There he goes again, trying to cover up his obvious anxiety with some spontaneous remark.

''Of course you wouldn't. I didn't tell you. And besides, it was a spur of the moment." I said.

"That's the 2nd spur of the moment you had for the past 3 days." he said, continuing his laid-back facade.

I remain quiet, and we fell into a comforting silence. My mind started to wander, and large parts of it were of the guy beside me. I stay like that for a some minutes until I finally said, "Are you nervous?", while still facing forward.

"No.", that's all he said.

"Bullshit." I snapped. He chuckled. Does he think I'm an idiot? He knows he can't lie to me, but he is now. It's like he now deems me not worthy of his true self. It makes me angry. Even if it's only after the chariot parade that I truly met him, on that staircase. We had this automatic connection that even our differences couldn't hinder. He must've thought that, too. "Are you nervous", he asked me back. I looked at him, and he looks at me.

"No, just pissed. Why are you not telling me the truth?" I said. "How do you know I'm not telling the truth?" he asked defiantly, his gaze intensifying. "I just know so! I know you!" I said. What a stupid thing to say, I thought to myself. Now I sound creepy. His gaze on my hardened. Deep inside I flinched, but knowledge got the best of me and I quickly continued, "There. You're looking at me like how you did when we first met. But I can't blame you, because I know you're doing it because you're readying yourself for tomorrow. I know you can't let anyone see you worried about anything. At all. That's why you're like that."

Silence.

Have I dropped the right bomb? I look at Cato, his blue eyes losing it's guard. I touch his face, and he slowly leans to my touch, his soft gaze still on my face. It's so heartbreaking, to see him like that. Like he doesn't know what to feel anymore.

We stay like that for a little longer, and as the sun starts to rise above the Capitol, I think about our midnight talks on the topmost stairs of the building, our knowing glances and secret smiles during training, when one of us(mostly me) flunks in relays or specific stations. I remember him staying in his strong, formidable stance, but beneath those sharing one of a few glints in his eyes whenever he catches mine. Oftentimes, I make him feel like I never notice these little things, like they're not important. But at this moment, looking at his face, those things are all what my mind can register.

I study his face again, for the umpteenth time, and he's looking at me like I could disappear any time,and like he's gonna be at lost when I do that's why he's taking in all of my face, my eyes, nose, everything. And I could bet my whole life that I'm doing the same.

His eyes, they're simply blue to him, but I tell him how it looks like the brilliant marbles in the market back home, and how it would look like the brilliant blue sea in District 4. His eyes, they are brilliant in every way, I tell him on one of our talks. But he doesn't believe me.

"Your eyes, Cato."

"Does it look like the sea?" I smile as he remembers it. My own eyes are on the verge of dropping stupid tears, so I smile wider. "Yes." and the first tear falls.

Then, it's like he woke up in a trance and starts looking worried. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" I chuckle and drop my hands from his face and wipe my cheeks free from tears, "It's nothing. Don't worry about me," I say with a soft chuckle.

"Wait here." he said, and ran to the other side of the roof, where the flowers lay. He came back with a small pink hydrangea in his hands. He turns back to me and holds my hand open. He gives me the flower. "Why are you giving me this?" I asked. He didn't give me an answer, only a soft kiss on the forehead that sent shivers up my spine. I feel it now. I feel the safety I've been longing.

I know after this, there won't be any late night talks for the both of us. We'll have to face the reality of what he's sworn to do, and what I'm forced to.

I took a moment to admire the pink hydrangea Cato gave me just a few moments ago and realized that its meaning perfectly describes how he is: Heartless but understanding. I don't know if he was ever like this to other people besides me, but I am thankful because I was given the chance to witness it.

A beautiful contrast.

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Thank you so much for reading my first super-duper short oneshot for The Hunger Games! :)


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